Tag: Thankful

Life With Purpose

Today’s a new day!

Twenty-four years ago, I never imagined the road my life would take.

If someone had told me I would spend decades walking through cancer, Parkinson’s Disease, Myasthenia Gravis, a stroke, gastroparesis, early-stage Lewy Body Dementia, countless hospital stays, surgeries, treatments, and more doctor’s appointments than I could ever count, I probably would have wondered how anyone could endure that much.

The truth is, there have been days when I wondered the same thing.

There have been moments when fear tried to take over. There have been seasons of grief as I watched abilities I once took for granted slowly disappear. As a former marathon runner, I remember what it felt like to run mile after mile with freedom. Today, every step is a reminder that life has changed.

But here’s what I’ve discovered.

I couldn’t choose my diagnoses, but I could choose what I did with them.

Somewhere along this journey, God began changing my perspective. Instead of asking, “Lord, why is this happening to me?” I found myself asking, “Lord, how can You use this for Your glory?”

That question changed everything.

Purpose doesn’t eliminate pain, but it gives pain eternal significance.

Some of the most powerful moments of my faith haven’t happened in church buildings. They’ve happened in emergency rooms, hospital rooms, intensive care units, doctor’s offices, and quiet moments when all I could do was whisper the name of Jesus.

I’ve experienced frightening hallucinations brought on by Parkinson’s Disease and dementia. They were unlike anything I had ever known. Yet even in those moments, when my mind should have been consumed with fear, God filled it with peace and worship. Songs came flooding into my heart. Instead of darkness having the final word, Jesus reminded me that His presence reaches places illness never can.

Those songs eventually became Songs in the Battle.

What the enemy intended to use to discourage me, God transformed into worship.

In 2019, during surgery, God gave me a glimpse of Heaven that forever changed how I see suffering. I experienced a place more beautiful than words could ever describe. I had no pain. I had a new body. I didn’t want to leave.

Then I heard these words:

“Not yet, my son. I have more work for you to complete.”

When I woke up in recovery pointing toward Heaven, I knew my life no longer belonged to me. It belonged completely to the One who had sent me back.

That experience didn’t remove my health challenges.

It gave them purpose.

I’ve learned that ministry isn’t confined to a platform or a microphone. Sometimes ministry looks like encouraging another patient in a waiting room. Sometimes it’s praying for a nurse who has had an exhausting shift. Sometimes it’s simply choosing joy when your circumstances make no sense.

Every diagnosis has become another opportunity to testify to God’s faithfulness.

Every setback has become another opportunity to trust Him.

Every scar has become another reminder that God is still writing my story.

I’ve also learned that weakness isn’t the opposite of usefulness.

The world measures people by what they can produce. God measures us by our willingness to trust Him. Scripture reminds us that His power is made perfect in weakness. Looking back, I can honestly say I’ve often experienced God’s strength most clearly when I had none of my own.

If my journey has taught me anything, it’s that purpose isn’t determined by our physical abilities. It’s determined by our willingness to surrender whatever we have to God.

I don’t know what tomorrow’s doctor’s appointment will bring.

I don’t know what new challenge may be waiting around the corner.

But I do know this:

As long as God gives me breath, I want every breath to point someone toward Jesus.

If my story gives hope to someone newly diagnosed…

If it encourages a caregiver who is exhausted…

If it reminds someone that miracles still happen—even when they don’t look the way we expected…

If it helps one person discover that Jesus never abandons us in our suffering…

Then every difficult day has eternal value.

I have made the choice to live out my health issues with purpose.

Not because this journey has been easy.

Not because I enjoy suffering.

But because I have seen, time and time again, that God never wastes a surrendered life.

My health challenges are part of my testimony, but they are not my identity.

My identity is found in Jesus Christ.

And as long as He continues to write my story, I will keep telling the world that hope is alive, miracles still happen, and no diagnosis is greater than the faithfulness of God. ~OC

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Everyone Belongs

This week marks the 36th anniversary of the Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA), a landmark moment in our nation’s history.

The Americans with Disabilities Act was more than a piece of legislation. It was a declaration that every person has inherent worth, dignity, and the right to fully participate in society. It challenged barriers that had excluded millions of Americans and affirmed that disability should never determine a person’s value or limit their opportunity.

While we have made significant progress over the past 36 years, the journey is far from over.

Too many people with disabilities still encounter physical barriers, employment discrimination, inaccessible healthcare, transportation challenges, and attitudes that underestimate their gifts and potential. True accessibility is about more than ramps and parking spaces—it is about creating a culture where every person is welcomed, respected, and empowered to thrive.

As someone who has spent years walking through significant health challenges, I have experienced firsthand both the compassion of others and the obstacles that still exist. I have also learned that disability does not diminish purpose. It does not erase calling. It does not prevent God from working through our lives in powerful ways.

The Church has a unique opportunity to lead by example. We should be the first to ensure that people with disabilities are not merely accommodated but fully embraced as essential members of the Body of Christ. Every gift matters. Every voice matters. Every life matters.

The ADA reminds us of an important truth: inclusion is not charity—it is justice. And for those of us who follow Jesus, it is also an expression of His heart. Throughout the Gospels, Jesus consistently welcomed those whom society overlooked, reminding us that every person bears the image of God.

As we reflect on the legacy of the Americans with Disabilities Act, may we celebrate how far we’ve come while recommitting ourselves to building communities where every person can flourish with dignity, opportunity, and hope.

Let’s continue removing barriers—not just in our buildings, but in our hearts.

Because everyone belongs. ~OC

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Learning To Live From Those Preparing To Die

Today’s a new day!

As I have walked this long and often difficult health journey, I have discovered something about myself that may seem surprising.

I love talking with people who know they are nearing the end of their lives.

It isn’t because I have become fascinated with death. It is because, in many ways, those conversations are more about life than death.

There is something profoundly beautiful about the honesty that often emerges when someone knows their time is limited. The masks begin to fall away. The need to impress others disappears.

The pressure to maintain an image no longer matters. They are no longer trying to convince the world—or themselves—that they have it all together.

Instead, they simply tell the truth.

They admit their fears. They acknowledge their regrets. They celebrate what mattered most. They talk about family more than finances, relationships more than résumés, and faith more than fame. They have come to understand that life is not about accumulating things or building a reputation. It is about loving well, living with purpose, and leaving behind something far more valuable than possessions.

One of the greatest lessons they teach me is humility.

They know the world will continue after they are gone. Businesses will keep operating. The sun will rise. New memories will be made. Life moves on. That realization doesn’t seem to make them bitter; instead, it often makes them grateful. It gives them clarity about what truly deserves their time and attention.

Walking through my own health challenges has changed how I hear these conversations. When your own body reminds you that life is fragile, you begin listening differently. You stop assuming there will always be another opportunity to say what needs to be said, to forgive, to love, or to pursue what really matters.

You begin asking different questions.

Am I living with integrity?

Am I investing in people more than accomplishments?

Am I chasing significance or simply seeking approval?

If I knew my time was short, what would I wish I had done differently?

My sincere hope and prayer is that everyone reading this enjoys a long, healthy, and productive life. I hope your years are filled with purpose, meaningful work, deep relationships, laughter, and joy.

But I also hope you won’t wait until the final chapter of your life to embrace the wisdom that so many discover only then.

Spend time with those nearing the end of life’s journey. Listen more than you speak. Their perspective is a gift. They have little interest in pretending, competing, or impressing anyone. They have learned that authenticity is far more valuable than appearance and that love always outlasts achievement.

The people I have met in this season have reminded me that the greatest measure of a life is not how much we accumulated, but how faithfully we loved, how generously we served, and how honestly we lived.

Perhaps that is the invitation for all of us.

We don’t have to wait until death is near to become honest. We don’t have to wait until our health fails to appreciate the gift of today. We don’t have to wait until the end of our story to begin living the life we were created to live.

If we are willing to listen, those preparing to leave this world may become some of our greatest teachers. Their final lessons are not really about dying.

They are about living.

And the wisest thing we can do is learn those lessons while we still have time to put them into practice. ~OC

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Living A Life Of Significance:Day 3

Day 3: Salt and Light

Scripture Reading: Matthew 5:13-16  

Reflection: Significance is influence. Salt preserves. Light exposes. Both are ordinary things with extraordinary impact in the right place.  

Application: Where is one room, one workplace, one family conversation where you can bring light today?  

Prayer: Jesus, help me flavor my world with grace.

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True Difference-Makers

Today’s a new day!

We live in a culture that often celebrates the loudest voices, the biggest platforms, and the wealthiest people. Every day we are bombarded with stories of people chasing power, fame, influence, and money, as though those things alone define a successful life.

But I have discovered something far more inspiring.

There are still people quietly changing the world.

They may or may not trend on social media. They may or may not become household names. They may or may not receive the recognition they deserve. Yet every single day they choose compassion and truth over applause, service over status, and people over personal gain.

I wanted to take a moment to recognize just a few individuals whose lives have encouraged me.

Ricky Aiken- Inner City Innovators:

Ricky Aiken has dedicated his life to investing in young people and underserved communities through Inner City Innovators (https://innercityinnovators.org/). Rather than asking, “How can I become successful?” he asks, “How can I help someone else succeed?”

His work is about creating opportunities where others see obstacles, building hope where many only see despair, and reminding people that every life has value.

That kind of leadership isn’t built on ego.

It’s built on love.

Bryan Stevenson-Equal Justice Initiative:

Bryan Stevenson has spent decades standing beside people whom much of society has forgotten. Through the Equal Justice Initiative (https://eji.org/), he has become a powerful voice for justice, mercy, and human dignity.

One of his most memorable statements is this:

“Each of us is more than the worst thing we’ve ever done.”

Those words reflect a truth Christians 

understand well. Every one of us stands in need of grace. Every one of us has been offered redemption through Christ.

Justice without compassion becomes cold.

Compassion without justice becomes incomplete.

Bryan Stevenson reminds us that both matter.

Benjamin R. Cremer:

Benjamin Cremer (https://benjaminrcremer.substack.com/ ), consistently challenges Christians to look more like Jesus than like the culture around us.

His writing encourages believers to choose humility over arrogance, love over outrage, and faithfulness over political power.

In a time when Christianity is too often associated with division, Benjamin continually points people back to the heart of Jesus.

Not everyone agrees with him.

That isn’t the point.

His willingness to speak with humility, compassion, and conviction is something our world desperately needs.

Suleika Jaouad:

Suleika Jaouad (https://www.suleikajaouad.com/), has shared her deeply personal journey through illness, uncertainty, hope, and resilience with remarkable honesty.

Instead of allowing suffering to define her, she has used it to connect with countless others walking through their own difficult seasons.

She reminds us that healing isn’t always about becoming who we once were.

Sometimes healing is becoming someone entirely new.

As someone who has spent many years navigating serious health challenges, I deeply appreciate voices that speak honestly about pain while refusing to surrender hope.

A Different Kind of Legacy

These four people come from different backgrounds.

They may have different beliefs.

They may serve in different ways.

Yet they share something that seems increasingly rare.

They have chosen to live for something bigger than themselves.

They remind us that changing the world doesn’t always happen from a stage.

Sometimes it happens in a courtroom.

Sometimes it happens in forgotten neighborhoods.

Sometimes it happens through honest conversations.

Sometimes it happens one person at a time.

What Will Be Said About Us?

When our lives are over, people probably won’t remember how many followers we had.

They won’t remember how much money we accumulated.

They won’t remember how famous we became.

They will remember how we treated people.

Did we lift others up?

Did we stand beside those who were hurting?

Did we speak truth with grace?

Did we leave the world more compassionate than we found it?

Jesus never told His followers to seek fame.

He told us to love our neighbors.

He never instructed us to chase power.

He taught us to become servants.

He never measured success by influence.

He measured it by faithfulness.

Perhaps that’s the kind of legacy worth pursuing.

In a world obsessed with being noticed, may we become people who quietly notice others.

Because those are often the people who change the world the most. ~OC

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New Isles: A New Beginning/Chapter Twenty- The Hidden Story

The next morning, Hope Isles woke slowly.

The harbor stirred to life.

Fishing boats slipped into the water.

The aroma of fresh coffee drifted from Sit Awhile.

Church bells rang in the distance.

And for the first time in decades, Daniel Carter woke up on the island he once swore he’d never see again.

James found him sitting on the porch of Hope House before sunrise.

Coffee cup in hand.

Bible open.

Reading.

The sight made James smile.

“Couldn’t sleep?”

Daniel looked up.

“A little.”

James sat beside him.

“Bad memories?”

Daniel shook his head.

“Good ones.”

That answer surprised them both.

For years, Hope Isles had only represented loss.

Now something else was beginning to emerge.

Gratitude.

Healing had a way of changing the lens through which people viewed the past.

A few hours later, Walter arrived carrying a weathered leather satchel.

June noticed immediately.

“Oh no.”

Walter raised an eyebrow.

“Oh no what?”

June pointed at the satchel.

“That bag contains either wisdom or trouble.”

Walter laughed.

“Maybe both.”

Ethan leaned over.

“Definitely both.”

The group gathered around one of the large tables inside Hope House.

Walter carefully placed the satchel in front of him.

Then he removed several old journals.

Photographs.

Documents.

Letters.

Items yellowed by time.

Daniel stared.

“What is all this?”

Walter smiled.

“The rest of the story.”

Silence settled across the room.

Walter opened one of the journals.

“This belonged to Reverend Samuel Hayes.”

James recognized the name.

The founder of Hope House.

The man whose photograph still hung in the main hallway.

Walter nodded toward the journal.

“He wrote everything down.”

Sarah leaned forward.

“Everything?”

“Almost.”

Walter carefully opened to a bookmarked page.

The room grew quiet.

He began reading.

“Today Thomas Carter approached me with an idea.”

“He believes Hope Isles needs a place where broken people can start over.”

“A place where no one walks alone.”

“A place built on faith, community, and second chances.”

James froze.

Daniel did too.

Walter continued.

“Thomas says every person deserves someone who believes redemption is possible.”

“I believe he is right.”

Walter closed the journal.

The room sat in stunned silence.

Finally Ethan spoke.

“Wait.”

Everyone looked at him.

“You’re saying Thomas Carter helped create Hope House?”

Walter smiled.

“He did more than help.”

Daniel’s eyes widened.

“What do you mean?”

Walter slid an old photograph across the table.

In it stood Reverend Hayes.

Beside him stood Thomas Carter.

Both smiling.

Both holding blueprints.

The words written on the back were simple:

The beginning of Hope House.

James stared at the image.

His grandfather.

The man he’d never known.

The man who had spent his life helping build a place dedicated to second chances.

The very place that had eventually saved James.

The room became completely still.

June wiped away tears.

Sarah looked speechless.

Even Ethan had no sarcastic comment ready.

Which might have been the most shocking thing of all.

Walter turned another page.

“There is more.”

James wasn’t sure his heart could handle more.

Yet he nodded.

Walter read again.

“Thomas believes God can redeem any story.”

“He often says that someday someone from his own family may need this place.”

“I laughed when he said it.”

“He did not.”

The words hit like thunder.

James sat frozen.

Daniel looked equally stunned.

Walter slowly lowered the journal.

The silence lingered.

Then Daniel whispered:

“He said that?”

Walter nodded.

“He said it often.”

James felt emotion rising unexpectedly.

His grandfather had spoken those words 

decades before James was born.

Long before the brokenness.

Long before the wandering.

Long before Hope House became his refuge.

Yet somehow…

Thomas Carter had believed.

Not in details.

Not in predictions.

But in the power of God to redeem future generations.

Sarah reached across the table and squeezed James’s hand.

Neither said a word.

None were needed.

Walter opened one final envelope.

“This was found among Reverend Hayes’s papers after he died.”

He handed it directly to James.

The handwriting was unmistakable.

Thomas Carter.

James carefully unfolded the paper.

The message was short.

Only a paragraph.

Yet every word mattered.

If my family ever returns to Hope Isles, remind them of this:

God wastes nothing.

Not storms.

Not grief.

Not failures.

Not lost years.

Everything surrendered to Him can become part of a greater story.

Tell them not to run.

Tell them to stay long enough to see what grace can build.

James lowered the letter.

His eyes filled with tears.

Across the table, Daniel quietly wept.

Not from sorrow.

Not this time.

From understanding.

Years spent running.

Years spent blaming.

Years spent believing the story ended at loss.

And all along, God had been writing something larger.

Something spanning generations.

Walter smiled gently.

“Your grandfather never got to see Hope House finished.”

He looked around the room.

At the people.

At the friendships.

At the lives changed.

At James.

“But I think he would have liked the result.”

Laughter mixed with tears.

The kind of laughter born from gratitude.

The kind that only appears after healing has done its work.

Later that evening, James stood alone outside Hope House.

The sun was setting.

The island glowed in shades of gold.

Behind him stood the building his grandfather helped imagine.

A place that had become home.

A place that had changed everything.

Footsteps approached.

Daniel joined him.

For a while neither spoke.

Finally Daniel broke the silence.

“You know what’s amazing?”

“What?”

Daniel smiled.

“I spent forty years trying to stay away from this place.”

James nodded.

“And?”

His father looked toward Hope House.

Toward the harbor.

Toward the church.

Toward the lighthouse.

Toward the life his father had once loved.

“And it turns out I was running from a blessing.”

The words settled softly between them.

A truth long delayed.

But no less powerful.

As darkness settled over Hope Isles, lights flickered on throughout the town.

Warm.

Steady.

Welcoming.

And somewhere beyond the visible horizon, another chapter of the story was already unfolding.

Because Hope House had been built for second chances.

But what no one yet realized was this:

The next season would require the entire island to come together.

A storm was coming.

Not one from the sea.

One that would test everything Hope Isles believed about faith, community, and hope.

And at the center of it all would be James Carter.

Just as his grandfather once was.

To Be Continued…

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Our Citizenship in Christ

Today’s a new day!

Today I’m reminded of something I deeply love about the Church.

It has never belonged to one country.

It belongs to Christ.

That truth has been evident since the very beginning. Jesus didn’t come to establish an earthly kingdom defined by borders, flags, political parties, or national identities. He came to establish an eternal Kingdom made up of redeemed people from every corner of the earth.

One of my favorite pictures in all of Scripture is found in Revelation 5:9:

“And they sang a new song, saying: ‘You are worthy… because You were slain, and with Your blood You purchased for God persons from every tribe and language and people and nation.'”

What an incredible image.

Around the throne of Jesus there won’t be one nation represented above another. There won’t be political divisions or cultural superiority. There won’t be earthly labels separating us.

There will simply be worship.

People from every tribe.
Every language.
Every people.
Every nation.

All united by one Savior.

I’m grateful for the freedoms many of us enjoy. They are tremendous blessings that should never be taken for granted. But I’m also grateful for my brothers and sisters around the world who faithfully follow Jesus under circumstances I can hardly imagine. Some worship in beautiful church buildings. Others gather quietly in homes. Some sing openly without fear. Others whisper their praises because following Christ could cost them everything.

Yet we are one Church.

One Body.

One family.

The Church has always been much bigger than any nation and much greater than any government. Kingdoms rise and fall. Borders change. Leaders come and go. But the Kingdom of God continues to grow, one transformed life at a time.

That reminds me where my deepest identity truly belongs.

It isn’t found in my citizenship.

It isn’t found in my political affiliation.

It isn’t found in my nationality.

It is found in Jesus Christ.

As followers of Christ, we’re called to love our neighbors, pray for our leaders, serve our communities, and be good citizens wherever God has placed us. But above all else, we remember that our ultimate allegiance belongs to the King of Kings.

As Paul reminds us in Philippians 3:20:

“But our citizenship is in heaven. And we eagerly await a Savior from there, the Lord Jesus Christ.”

May we never allow earthly differences to overshadow our heavenly unity.

May we celebrate the beautiful diversity of God’s family.

May we pray for believers across the globe with the same love we have for those sitting beside us each Sunday.

And may we live every day remembering that before we are anything else, we are followers of Jesus.

The Church has never belonged to one country.

It belongs to Christ.

And one glorious day, people from every tribe, every language, every people, and every nation will gather around His throne with one voice, proclaiming:

“Worthy is the Lamb!”

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Faces Covered, Hearts Exposed: What This Train Car Teaches Us About Hate And Christian Nationalism

Courage vs Cowards

Today’s a new day! Here are my thoughts on this photo taken on the Metro in Washington, D.C. The following are my thoughts and opinions. If you happen to disagree with me, I encourage you to take it up with God.

Look at this photo. A young woman sits alone on a train, surrounded by dozens of men in matching uniforms, faces covered, patches bearing flags. She meets the camera’s eye. They refuse to be seen.

This image is a parable. And it’s the opposite of the Gospel.

The Gospel unmasks. Hate hides.

Jesus never hid His face. He wept publicly, prayed publicly, died publicly. “I have spoken openly to the world,” He told His accusers. (John 18:20)

Hate loves masks. It loves anonymity, mobs, and intimidation. Why? Because deeds done in darkness don’t survive the light (John 3:20). When an ideology needs to cover faces to deliver its message, it’s already confessed something about that message.

Christian Nationalism too often puts a mask on Jesus. It takes the crucified Savior and dresses Him in the uniform of earthly power. But Christ doesn’t need our flags stitched to His robe. “My kingdom is not of this world” (John 18:36). When we try to make it of this world, we end up looking like this train car: coercive, not compelling.

The Gospel draws near. Hate surrounds.

Notice the posture here. One person, isolated. Many others, standing, looming. That’s not how Jesus moved through crowds. 

He touched lepers when others stepped back. He invited Zacchaeus down from a tree when the crowd boxed him out. He stopped for the woman no one else would look at. The Gospel breaks circles of exclusion. Hate forms them.

Christian Nationalism, at its worst, baptizes “us vs. them.” It defines who belongs and who threatens. But the cross destroyed the dividing wall of hostility (Ephesians 2:14). If our faith needs an enemy to stay strong, it isn’t Christian faith. It’s civil religion with a cross necklace.

The Gospel sees the individual. Hate sees categories.

I don’t know the woman’s name in the photo. You don’t either. But God does. She isn’t a symbol. She’s a person made in His image (Genesis 1:27)

Movements built on hate don’t see people. They see demographics, threats, problems to solve. They make you afraid to sit alone on a train in your own city. 

Jesus’s first question to people was often, “What do you want me to do for you?” (Mark 10:51). He saw individuals. Christian Nationalism tends to see a “nation to save” and turns people into footnotes. When saving “America” matters more than loving the person next to you on the Metro, we’ve lost the plot.

So what do we do when the train car feels like the world?

Uncover our own faces: Confess where contempt has crept into our hearts. It’s easy to hate the masked men too. Jesus doesn’t give us that option. “Love your enemies” (Luke 6:27) includes them.

Sit with the isolated: Who in your life feels like that woman on the train? The Gospel moves us toward them, not away. Proximity kills caricatures.

Refuse the idols of power and fear: The early church changed the Roman Empire without voting, lobbying, or taking up swords. They did it by loving radically and dying well. Our witness still works that way.

Remember what we’re witnessing to: Not a Christian nation. A crucified Christ. “We preach Christ crucified… the power of God and the wisdom of God” (1 Corinthians 1:23-24). 

This photo should grieve us. Not just because of what it says about them, but because of what it reveals about us. Every one of those masked hearts was knit together by God. Every one of them is someone Christ died for. So is she. So are you. So am I.

Hate says, “Cover your face and find your strength in numbers.” 

Jesus says, “Take up your cross and find your life by losing it.”

The train is still running. The choice is still ours. Which kingdom will we board? ~OC

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If Old Glory Could Speak On America’s 250th Birthday

Happy Fourth of July! Before we start with the food and fireworks, I wanted to share the following post with you. I hope you will take the time to read. ~OC

“I have flown over battlefields and schoolhouses, over farms and factories, over churches and courthouses. I have been raised in moments of victory and lowered in moments of grief. I have watched generations come and go. Today, America turns Two-Hundred and Fifty years old. If I could speak, this is what I would say…”

My Dear America,

For two hundred and fifty years, I have waved in the wind through seasons of triumph and seasons of heartbreak.

I have seen brave men and women give everything so others could live in freedom. I have watched families build lives from nothing. I have witnessed extraordinary courage during wars, disasters, and national tragedies. I have also watched division, hatred, selfishness, and pride threaten the very foundation upon which this nation was built.

Today, I want to speak—not as a politician, not as a party, not as an ideology—but as the flag that has stood above every American generation.

To Those Born in America

Never forget that freedom has always carried a cost.

The liberties you enjoy today were purchased by the sacrifice of countless men and women whose names history may never remember. Some never came home. Others came home carrying wounds that could not be seen.

Honor their sacrifice not merely with words, but by how you live.

Respect one another.

Serve your communities.

Defend truth.

Care for your neighbors.

Do not waste your freedom chasing things that will never satisfy your soul.

Remember that rights and responsibilities have always walked hand in hand.

A nation cannot remain free if its people refuse to live with character.

To Those Who Now Call America Home

Welcome.

Whether your journey here began with hope, hardship, sacrifice, or prayer, know that your story is now woven into America’s story.

Bring your talents.

Bring your dreams.

Bring your work ethic.

Bring your love for family.

Bring your gratitude.

Help strengthen this nation by embracing not only its opportunities but also its responsibilities.

Never stop appreciating the freedoms that millions around the world still long for.

America has always been at her best when people from many backgrounds chose to become one people committed to a shared future.

To Every Citizen

Please stop seeing each other as enemies.

You were never meant to fear one another simply because you vote differently.

You were never meant to despise someone because they grew up somewhere else.

You were never meant to define another human being by a political label before seeing them as a person.

I have covered the coffins of soldiers from every political belief.

Death never asked who they voted for.

Their sacrifice was for every American.

Perhaps that should remind you that your neighbor is not your enemy. 

Remember Who You Are

I am only cloth.

I have no power by myself.

I only represent the people who stand beneath me.

If honesty disappears…

If compassion disappears…

If courage disappears…

If integrity disappears…

Then I become nothing more than fabric blowing in the wind.

A nation’s greatness has never depended upon the beauty of its flag.

It has always depended upon the character of its people.

A Word About Humility

No nation is perfect.

America has accomplished remarkable things.

America has also made painful mistakes.

Maturity is found in celebrating what is good 

while having the courage to acknowledge what must improve.

Patriotism is not pretending perfection.

Patriotism is loving your country enough to help it become better.

To the Next Generation

Dream boldly.

Work diligently.

Serve faithfully.

Honor your parents.

Protect the vulnerable.

Respect those who came before you.

Build something that outlives you.

Leave America stronger than you found her.

One day, this nation will belong to your children.

Prepare it well.

One Final Thought

As I have flown over this nation for two-hundred and fifty years, I have learned something.

The strongest America has never been the loudest America.

The strongest America has always been the America that prayed together…

served together…

sacrificed together…

forgave together…

and believed that tomorrow could be better than yesterday.

May you never lose that hope.

May you never lose your courage.

May you never lose your gratitude.

And may you never forget that while I may symbolize your nation, it is you—your character, your compassion, your integrity, and your willingness to love your neighbor—who determine what I truly stand for.

Happy Two Hundred and Fiftieth Birthday, America.

May God bless you with wisdom.

May He guide your leaders.

May He protect your people.

And may liberty always be joined with justice, humility, and love.

Happy Birthday, America.

Signed, 

—Old Glory

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Stop Negotiating The Terms Of Your Surrender To God

Today’s a new day!

One of the greatest struggles in the Christian life is not whether we believe in God—it is whether we are willing to surrender everything to Him.

Too often, we approach God with conditions.

“Lord, I’ll follow You… as long as You don’t ask me to give that up.”

“I’ll trust You… if You tell me the whole plan first.”

“I’ll obey… if it doesn’t cost me too much.”

“I’ll forgive… but only if they apologize.”

“I’ll go wherever You lead… except there.”

Without realizing it, we begin negotiating the terms of our surrender.

But surrender isn’t a negotiation.

It’s an act of complete trust.

Jesus never invited His disciples into a contract where both sides could bargain. He invited them into a relationship built on faith, love, and obedience.

When Jesus said, “Follow Me,” He didn’t hand them a detailed itinerary. He didn’t promise comfort, popularity, or an easy life. He simply asked them to trust Him.

And they did.

Real surrender says:

“Jesus, I don’t need to know every step because I know the One who is leading me.”

That kind of faith changes everything.

The truth is, partial surrender is still resistance.

When we hold tightly to our plans, our fears, our pride, our bitterness, or our desire for control, we leave little room for God to do what only He can do.

God isn’t trying to take something good away from us.

He is trying to give us something far greater than we could ever create on our own.

Many of us spend years asking God to bless our plans instead of asking Him to replace them with His.

Yet Scripture reminds us that His ways are higher than ours and His thoughts are higher than ours. What feels like a loss in the moment often becomes the doorway to God’s greatest blessings.

Looking back over my own life, I can honestly say that some of the hardest seasons were also the seasons that taught me the deepest lessons about surrender.

Illness.

Loss.

Disappointment.

Waiting.

None of those chapters were easy.

But every one of them taught me that God’s faithfulness is not dependent upon my understanding.

There were moments when I wanted answers.

God invited me to trust.

There were moments when I wanted control.

God invited me to surrender.

There were moments when I wanted my own timeline.

God reminded me that His timing is always perfect.

I’ve learned that peace doesn’t come from having every question answered.

Peace comes from placing every unanswered question into the hands of Jesus.

The cross itself is the ultimate picture of surrender.

Jesus prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane,

“Not My will, but Yours be done.”

If the Son of God surrendered Himself completely to the Father’s will, how much more should we?

God cannot fully direct a life that refuses to let go of the steering wheel.

He calls us to lay down our dreams, our fears, our expectations, our comfort, our pride, and even our understanding.

Not because He wants less for us.

Because He wants more.

His plans are always better than our plans.

His purpose is greater than our preferences.

His peace is deeper than our control.

So today, stop negotiating the terms of your surrender.

Stop asking God to fit into your agenda.

Instead, ask Him to make your heart fit His.

Lay everything at the foot of the Cross.

Hold nothing back.

Trust Him with the parts of your life that feel uncertain.

Give Him your future.

Give Him your pain.

Give Him your dreams.

Give Him your fears.

Give Him everything.

Because the safest place you will ever be is completely surrendered to Jesus Christ.

True freedom is not found in controlling your life.

It is found in placing your life into the hands of the One who gave His life for you.

Today is a good day to stop negotiating…

…and simply say,

“Lord Jesus, I am Yours.

Have Your way in me.”

Amen. ~OC

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